


The Shadow Floo

by mshecubus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-17 00:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1367914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mshecubus/pseuds/mshecubus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry discovers parts of himself thought suppressed while exploring a new, shadowy Floo network. Can Harry’s relationship with Draco survive what Harry discovers?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shadow Floo

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt** : #26 by Writcraft  
>  **Title** : The Shadow Floo  
>  **Author:** ???  
>  **Pairing(s)/Character(s)** : Harry/Draco, Harry, Draco, Hermione, Ron, Pansy, Kingsley, OFC  
>  **Disclaimer** : Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic.  
> No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
>  **Ratings** : NC-17  
>  **Warnings (Highlight to view)** : * See LJ Post*  
>  **Word Count** : ~16,000  
>  **Summary** : Harry discovers parts of himself thought suppressed while exploring a new, shadowy Floo network. Can Harry’s relationship with Draco survive what Harry discovers?  
>  **Author Notes** : Thank you to J and A for your quick and thorough Betas. All mistakes are mine  
> and mine only. To writcraft, this story deviated from how I first imagined it. I hope you enjoy  
> the results of my journey.

If you asked Draco Malfoy how well his boyfriend knew him he’d answer that if he didn’t know Harry was pants at Legillimency he’d swear he could read his mind. Harry seemed to know Draco like an extension of his own body, and he would have also sworn he knew Harry just as well.

Harry was everything Draco remembered him to have been at. He was infuriatingly sure of himself, still rushed headlong into situations without thinking, and their arguments were legendary amongst their friends, but Draco couldn’t imagine him being any other way. Harry had also grown into a man full of a kind of playfulness and passion that Draco had never known before. Even that side of Harry seemed familiar though, so when those surprising moments came through they seemed to Draco more like a remembered dream than discovering the unknown. Their relationship never failed to excite him, even when it fit like a favorite jumper. What he had with Harry was perfect as far as Draco was concerned, and their connection would have been proof they were soul mates, if Draco were inclined to believe in such a thing.

***

If you asked Harry Potter how well his boyfriend knew him he would likely stammer and blush, raking his hand through his hair in a charming, boyish manner. He would also talk about the passion in their relationship, and how Draco was everything he thought he would be. He would spend ages speaking of all the ways Draco had grown since their Hogwarts days. He would tell you how much he admired Draco for all he had built for himself. How his change in attitude toward Muggle-born and purebred supremacy had led to important education reform like the newly required wizarding tradition classes for first year Hogwarts students, or how, working with a committee of Muggle-born witches and wizards, he had helped overhaul Muggle Studies. It was now an informative and useful class required for all wizarding raised students. You would end your conversation with Harry so impressed with the glow of love and pride surrounding him that you wouldn’t notice that he never answered your question.

 

***

 

Draco and Harry often lay awake late into the night, talking. One of the earliest stories Harry shared was about learning he was a wizard. It was at that point, he claimed, he first had an identity. He was, as he suspected, more than his cousin’s whipping boy or the family freak. He was a wizard and he belonged to something special. He made his first friends, and found his family. During the initial decade of his life he wasn’t allowed to be more than his relatives deemed him. The day Hagrid showed up with his Hogwarts letter was the day he was truly born.

Left unanswered were all the questions about how the specter of Voldemort affected who Harry grew to be. He walked blind from the Muggle world into a life as one of the most famous wizards of all time. Those who could have prepared him left him to the mercy of his Muggle family, and threw him into his role as The Boy Who Lived with little guidance. If Draco tried to steer the conversation that way Harry skillfully derailed him. He would tell Draco how much he hated the spotlight, and wanted to be normal. A wizard, true, but a normal one. All he had ever hoped for was a place in which he fit. 

He might even share tidbits about how he looked at his time at Hogwarts as when he developed the knowledge of himself that made him man he became. Or that it wasn’t until the end of the war, however, that he realized how little time he had to be “just Harry”. While others were exploring the angsts and joys of adolescence, Harry was stuck in survival mode. As much as Harry hated to admit it, his idea of what defined him was as wrapped up in the legend of The Chosen One as any of the tripe found in the Daily Prophet. Harry went from child to adult without truly being allowed to grow up. How else could he explain reaching his 19th birthday without suspecting he was sexually attracted to men?

Draco did gleefully take the piss when Harry told him how innocent he had been. He had the defeat of a Dark Lord to his credit, but was left floundering when faced with the question of how to be gay. Hermione, of course, loaded him down with books full of coming out stories and how-to manuals about gay sex. There was nothing in there about how to _live_ though. In retrospect, Harry reckoned he would have had a bit of trouble with the whole living a normal life lark even if he had fancied girls, but he’d always thought he’d be able to count on Ginny to guide him through it. As understanding as she had been about his revelation, even she couldn’t teach him how to be a gay man.

***

In his dark bedroom, safely cocooned under the blankets, Harry told Draco about his attempts to explore the gay nightlife. His first forays into the gay scene were unmitigated disasters. He drank too much, danced too badly, and his tongue seemed to disappear whenever a likely looking bloke glanced his way. He went home each night, frustrated and depressed. If pulling were hunting dark wizards Harry was sure he’d be swimming in cock, but truthfully it involved every single thing he was crap at. As much as he scoured the pages he couldn’t find a chapter on how to not look like a total plank in any of the books Hermione sent him. 

Draco would laugh at these stories, easing the sting of his amusement with gentle kisses and caresses. He would teasingly ask Harry why he hadn’t ever thought to stop trying and just be? To visit pubs and shops for people watching? Even the Wizarding world has gay culture to explore. To stop being such a _Gryffindor_ and take things slowly. Harry would laughingly explain, in a self-deprecating way, that not acting on impulse didn’t seem to be an option for him. He eventually twigged on to it, and that was how he met his first boyfriend; however, months of rejection and self-doubt came first.

During these confessions Draco would hold Harry a little bit tighter as his heart broke for his beautiful, wounded lover. These unexpected vulnerabilities made Draco fall in love even more, sure that this bit of Harry was his and his only. Yes, Harry’s friends may have known that Harry struggled with his new found sexuality, but Draco was sure that his confident, strong Harry never shared with them the heartbreak he went through. To have suffered so needlessly when his naiveté would have charmed so many was so _Potter_ that Draco couldn’t imagine it happening any other way. That Harry Potter didn’t, in fact, have scores of men falling at his feet was both surprising and expected, Draco thought. That he felt so about Harry’s confession was more proof of the undeniable connection they had and had always had.

 

There had been talk around the Ministry for weeks about this new way of Flooing. Whispers in the hallways, and around the kettle. An owl sent off to “The Mystery Floo” would get you a pinch of a strange Floo Powder that took you into a unofficial and shadowy network while hiding your identity. Harry really hadn’t given it much thought, really, but Draco was out of town working with Beauxbatons on recreating Hogwarts education reforms, making this one of the few nights in their nearly year-long relationship in which they weren’t going to share a bed. Besides, he was bored. He paced restlessly around his empty flat before ending in his study.

“What’s the harm?” He asked himself. The Shadow Floo was open for viewing only; neither people nor objects could be passed through. Besides, only the first pinch came with the owl, and after that you paid. One little pinch, just a tiny look, wouldn’t hurt anyone. Before he could give it much more thought he dashed off a note, and attached it to the owl Draco had talked him into buying. As he tied the string taught he felt a twinge of conscience. He and Draco hadn’t talked about exploring the Shadow Floo, but Harry suspected that trying that particular activity alone wouldn’t be met with approval. 

“Nothing for it but to wait.” Harry sighed as he watched his owl fly away. He paused for a moment before resuming his restless pacing. However, the answer came quickly, and it wasn’t long before he found himself in one of the Shadow Floo’s “Party Rooms”. His attention flitted from conversation to conversation until he found a scene that stopped him in his tracks.

“Honestly, can’t you do anything right? I sincerely hope you’re capable of more than this because so far I am _not_ impressed.”

It looked to Harry as if an older man were berating a younger, but as with everyone in the Shadow Floo identities were impossible to make out.

“I’m sorry, sir.” The younger man gasped. “What do you want? I’ll do anything to satisfy you.”

Harry could see the erection bobbing between the legs of the younger man, and feel the confidence of the older. He backed away from the scene, terminating the Floo connection as he settled into his study chair to think. His cock throbbed painfully against his zipper, but he hardly noticed it as understanding settled on his shoulders. He wasn’t alone.

 

During the time Draco was gone Harry spent nearly every night holed up in his study, exploring The Shadow Floo. What he had seen had excited him, there was no denying that. More than that though was the feeling of belonging. His answer lay within if he could only find the right questions to ask. 

Knowing his identity was hidden gave Harry a kind of confidence he rarely felt in his personal life. While he already knew there was a freedom in wearing a mask, he had never before known that others like him were hiding behind their own masks too. His need drove him. He sought out anyone willing to answer his questions, and gave himself over to those who would teach him that sometimes to role play is to let loose the truest version of oneself.

 

After the first time Harry participated in a session he left The Floo nearly giddy in relief. There he was. Finally the Harry that lurked under the surface, the one who was never good enough, or smart enough, or quick enough, didn’t need to remain hidden. Harry loosened his control and let the words of his partner wash over him. He _was_ worthless and, in here, he didn’t need to pretend he wasn’t. In here he could let out his imperfections without worry. Nobody would ever be hurt by his incompetence. He would never disappoint. And, best of all, he would never be abandoned again.

 

A few weeks later Draco was home, and they celebrated his return with a welcome back dinner hosted by Ron and Hermione. Harry’s thoughts were still on his experience in The Shadow Floo. He didn’t know if he should tell his boyfriend what he discovered, and how would he even broach the subject if he did. He was so deep in his mind that he completely missed the beginning of the conversation between Draco and Hermione.

“I don’t think so, Granger!” Draco replied with a laugh. “Malfoys do NOT pay for sex.”

“Draco!” Hermione cried in a faux scandalized voice. “You aren’t paying for _sex_. Not exactly. You get fantasy, that’s all. It’s about creating a story. You talk, or you watch, or are watched. What’s wrong with a little bit of exhibitionism? No one can tell who you are, and there’s something a bit exciting about the idea. Imagine the possibilities!”

Draco gave her a smirk that Harry recognized to mean he was playing with her. 

“Such as?” he prompted.

“Well,” Hermione hesitated. “It might be, I don’t know, all right to have someone else tell you what to do. You know, where to touch, and how to position yourself. A little bit of submission, I suppose.”

Hermione was blushing deeply as she stammered out the last sentence. Draco pinned her with an intense look, one eyebrow raised nearly to his hair line.

“Do tell,” he drawled, prompting Hermione to turn a deeper red than Harry would have thought possible. She began to sputter out a reply when Draco suddenly relented, laughing. Hermione replied to his cackles with a glare.

“No, no! No more!” Draco gasped between chuckles. “Oh, your face! I can’t believe I got you to spill like that! Promise me one thing, OK? If you do decide to go in keep the details to yourself. I don’t think I could stand you oversharing about the Great Ginger Weasel.” 

“Oi, you’re one to talk, Ferret,” Ron cried, walking into the room carrying several bottles of butterbeer. “What did I miss?”

“Only your girlfriend spilling her deepest, darkest sexual fantasies.”

His friends’ banter continued, but Harry barely heard it. His mind was miles away, lost in the all too familiar flicker of green and purple unique to the Shadow Floo. Draco didn’t approve, and he’d never understand Harry’s need.

 

Later that night, as they were undressing for bed, Harry turned to Draco and asked, “What was that you and Hermione were talking about?”

“Oh, the Shadow Floo? Surely you’ve heard of it?”

“Yes, I have, but I reckon I haven’t given it as much thought as the two of you. Why were you giving her such a hard time about it?”

Draco paused in unbuttoning his shirt to think. “I didn’t mean anything by it, really. Do you think she was bothered? I was honestly just teasing.”

“I’m sure Hermione wasn’t too fussed, love,” Harry answered with a smile. “If she had been offended she would have made it clear, as you well know. I just wondered why you seemed so dead set against it. Is a little fantasy really that big a deal? After all, you have that stash of magazines I pretend I don’t know about.”

Draco chuckled before moving behind Harry to wrap his arms around his bare waist. His breath tickled Harry’s ear as he began to speak.

“I assure you I’m not against any fantasy you’d like to play out with me, Potter. It’s the idea of pretending with strangers that turns my stomach. With you I know who I’m putting my trust in. In there? It could be anyone, and I do have high standards. I like that I understand you and who you are, but it’s still never boring. With you I have everything I need and more. Anyway, why? Are you interested in trying the Shadow Floo?”

“No,” Harry quickly assured him. “I honestly hadn’t thought much past the fact of its existence until today. I hadn’t formed an opinion on it, and was curious why your stance came out against it.”

“I suppose,” Draco answered as he moved around to face Harry, “that I find it a sad idea more than anything else. To have a desire you’re so ashamed of that you can only act it out in anonymity and shadow? I suppose I pity that person.”

Harry’s mind was reeling as Draco’s mouth claimed his in a kiss. He had worked so hard to perfect himself for his lover and the Shadow Floo was threatening to take it all away. He silently vowed to keep that part of his life away from the rest. Draco would never know how at home Harry had felt, and Harry would continue to be exactly what Draco needed. He had come through too much and learned too many hard lessons to make a mess of it now. He knew his needs weren’t natural, but the Shadow Floo allowed him to bleed out the parts of himself Draco would despise. More than ever he wanted to be the Harry Draco knew and deserved.

As Draco entered him Harry put all of his desire to hold on to the life he had built into their lovemaking. Draco reveled in the adoration he saw reflected in Harry’s eyes. The time they had spent apart had been hard, but if this was to be his homecoming he wouldn’t complain. Harry was his. Flawlessly, wonderfully his, body and soul. Who would have thought that Draco Malfoy’s perfect partner would have been his former rival, Harry Potter? But here they were sharing their love, fitting together like two halves of a whole. Overwhelmed by emotion, Draco spilled his release deep into Harry, trembling and eyes brimming with tears.

 

_The firelight flickered purple then green, illuminating surfaces and then snatching the light away as quickly as it had been given. Muscles stood out in relief before fading in front of Harry’s eyes, leaving behind only the twinkle of sweat drops to hint at what lay hidden. He was reminded of an early film reel he had once seen where the figures danced on the screen in staccato motion making them seem comedic and unreal. His stomach roiled with motion sickness the way it had when he watched the film; the changing colors making him lightheaded and dizzy._

_“On your knees, boy!” the shadowy figure commanded. I’ve told you twice now. You really can’t do anything right, can you?”_

_Harry dropped to the ground. His head fell to his chest as if the man’s voice had broken his neck. He dared not look up. He wasn’t worthy._

_“Now since you’ve proven that you’re incapable of having an intelligent thought in that worthless head I’ll make this simple. You are going to watch me stroke myself, and you will mirror every motion I make. You are not to come, however. Disgusting freaks like you aren’t allowed that privilege.”_

_Harry could hear the smirk on the man’s face, even if he couldn’t see it. He lifted his head to watch a thick hand lift to grasp a hard, heavy cock. Harry found his own hand traveling up to do the same. Without thought he followed his tormentor’s motions, taunting and teasing and building in speed until his testicles were so high and tight that he thought he’d explode. He watched the other man’s cock pulse as he spilled his release over his hands and thighs. His moans went straight through Harry, pushing him closer to his own orgasm._

_“That’s enough, boy!” Harry stopped stroking._

_“I said you couldn’t come and I meant it. You don’t listen, do you? Why is that? Why are you such a worthless piece of rubbish? I give you chance after chance, but you fail them all. Why do I keep bothering?”_

_The tirade continued as Harry knelt in front of the fireplace, his shaft hard and throbbing in time to his pulse. Or perhaps to the man’s insults. Harry didn’t know anymore. His head had fallen forward again as the abuse washed over him. He has failed once more, just as he knew he would. This is who he was. What he was. He would always be a failure, and even if the world didn’t know it, he did._

_The man suddenly barked an order at Harry to come, and his body responded. His seed pulsed from him, giving relief if not pleasure._

 

The first time Draco kissed Harry he did so by pulling Harry to him so hard he nearly yanked him off his feet. He attacked Harry’s mouth like he wanted nothing more than to crawl inside and become part of him. After a second off guard Harry returned the kiss with equal fervor, leading Draco to whisper triumphantly, “I knew you’d be like this. I knew it. You do everything with passion.”

Of course, Harry did. He threw himself into the physical side of their relationship with enthusiasm and invention. He seemed to delight in exploring every inch of Draco’s body with his mouth and hands until the other man was left a boneless puddle. His vigor was so much that one day Draco put his hand to his chest, slowing Harry’s frantic assault on his body. “I’m not going anywhere, Harry. I promise I won’t disappear if we go slow. And perhaps sometimes I could have a turn?”

So Harry gave up control, and that time their lovemaking was sweet and romantic. That day was a turning point in their relationship. That was the day Draco swore Harry learned to read his mind. Their normal tumbles were just as athletic and intense as they had always been, but when Draco was feeling vulnerable Harry was there with soft kisses and sighs. Even though he never said it, Draco secretly believed that the first time they slowed down was when Harry learned Draco loved him. Something about the way they touched or looked at each other told Harry what Draco couldn’t say, and it allowed him to trust enough to expose his heart while they gave each other pleasure.

Even during their fights Harry didn’t close himself off to Draco. They argued as ferociously as they had at school, but Harry never held back from expressing himself. Draco was often amazed at how communicative Harry was with him. Hermione often told him of how Harry used to close himself off from his friends when hurting. To Draco it was all the proof he needed that Harry loved him just as much as he loved Harry.

 

_YOU KNEW, DID YOU? YOU KNEW I’D BE JUST LIKE THIS? WHO ARE YOU TO TELL ME WHAT I AM? YOU DON’T KNOW ME! YOU NEVER HAVE!”_

_“Enough, scum.” A quiet, dangerous voice answered Harry’s rant. “I know enough to know that you’re gagging for my cock right now, aren’t you? You hate yourself for being with me, but you can’t stop from wanting it.”_

_“No! I don’t hate myself for being with you. You’re everything to me, Dra… Sir! I’m sorry. Oh, Gods, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. Please, don’t go.”_

_“I don’t know why I waste my time with someone so worthless. You’re just going to fuck it up in the end, aren’t you?”_

_“NO! I promise I’ll do better. I’ll be what you need. I won’t forget again.”_

_“Quit crying like a little boy and remind me again why I’m with you. Take out that pretty cock for me. Tsk, tsk, not even hard. When are you going to start doing better, then? Stroke yourself, and take it slowly. I want to see this last.”_

_Through his tears Harry did as he was told._

 

When Draco began to notice something was bothering Harry, something he wasn’t talking about, he worried. In their daily routine everything seemed the same as ever. They would wake up at one or another of their flats, and get ready for work. After work they would have dinner together most evenings, with weekends earmarked for socializing with their wide circle of friends. 

Education was ever-changing and kept Draco busier than he would have ever guessed, and Harry was advancing quickly through the Auror Corps. The talk around the Ministry had Harry in line to become the next Head Auror, and Draco knew that he had recently had a long meeting with Kingsley Shacklebolt. More and more Harry was working late, either falling straight into bed after he made it to Draco’s or staying home to work late into the night. Draco decided that until his worry was caused by something more than suspicion he would have to trust that the distance he sensed in Harry was job stress.

***

Harry would have agreed that he was feeling job stress, but it wasn’t in the way Draco thought. His meeting with Kingsley wasn’t a kindly mentor meeting preparing him for a big promotion. Kingsley too had noticed Harry’s distance and preoccupation. His inattention to his job led to an Auror on his team getting hurt, and Kingsley intervention was a last ditch effort at a wake-up call before Harry ended up on suspension. The fact that he was the Minister’s friend was the only thing saving Harry’s arse at the moment. Yes, Harry was experiencing job stress, but he couldn’t bring himself to care when he had the Shadow Floo in which to escape.

 

When Harry told Draco the story of his first boyfriend he told him how Jonathan approached him in a café after seeing him in a club the night before. He told Draco how touched he was with Jonathan’s concern that Harry didn’t fit in. He saw Jonathan as the mostly perfectly normal bloke he had ever met. Jonathan was a Muggle, and average in just about every way. He worked in a bank, neither at the top of the ladder, nor the bottom. He had average looks, was average height, and discussed terribly mundane and average topics. Harry didn’t know how many times during their relationship one of the men in their social group would tell him he could do so much better. Harry confessed to Draco that he didn’t think Jonathan would have approached him if he hadn’t been so awfully out of place in the bar scene. His lack of confidence gave Jonathan the self-assurance to chat him up, and Harry was glad to let Jonathan be his introduction to a normal, gay life.

What Harry didn’t tell Draco was about the streak of sadism running deeply through Jonathan. Harry was right that Jonathan never would have approached him if he showed a different face at the club. Not because he would have been intimidated by Harry’s good looks or physique, but because a man who knows what he wants wouldn’t let Jonathan use him the way Harry did. 

The sex life he shared with Jonathan was concerned with Jonathan’s pleasure and nothing else. He took what he wanted from Harry from the first. The night Harry lost his virginity he was told, “I hope you’re a fast learner because I don’t think that was worth a repeat.”

From that day forward Harry worked turn himself into the perfect version of Harry that Jonathon expected. He learned to control his gag reflex so when Jonathan brutally fucked his face he could take it, showing no more reaction than the few tears that leaked from the corners of his eyes. He learned to get himself off quickly, with no regard to the pleasure of it. His aim wasn’t ecstasy, but to make sure he was relaxed enough to endure Jonathan’s brutal pounding. 

Harry learned what he needed from Jonathan. By the time Jonathan tired of him he knew how to mold himself into what he had always wanted to be – normal. Normal wasn’t, as Harry had always thought, being who he was at heart. He had tried that in the beginning of his relationship with Jonathan and all it brought him was scorn and abuse. No, normal was as much a role as any he had played before. Harry might have gone from one life of manipulation into another, still in survival mode. This time he was determined to do whatever it took to learn the skills to be like everyone else. He endured years of Dumbledore’s machinations and Voldemort’s attempts to kill him before he became an expert on fighting dark wizards. He could endure a Jonathan or two if it meant he’d eventually reach his goal.

 

_Harry once again knelt in front of his study’s floo. He held a conjured dildo that was as perfect a reproduction of Jonathan’s cock as he could create. With both hands on the base he fucked his mouth as hard as he could while a voice taunted from the other side of the floo._

_“You know why I have to fuck you like this, don’t you? It’s the only way I can get off with your mouth.”_

_“Remember the first time you tried to suck me? The voice continued, full of scorn. “Ugh! It was disgusting. You slobbered, and gagged so much my thighs were wet with your drool. If I wanted something all floppy and wet I’d fuck a girl. Don’t you think I know what my friends say to you? Do you think I don’t know they tell you that you can do better? Do you think they’d say that if they knew how I have to take what I want from you? Nasty cunt mouth.”_

 

Harry was spending more time at Draco’s flat in an attempt to avoid chances to use The Shadow Floo. No matter how much he told himself that he needed to stop, that he was ruining the best thing in his life, after a while he couldn’t resist. He wondered sometimes if he should talk to someone like a Mind Healer, but if he did that he didn’t know how to keep it quiet. No, what he needed to do was set his will to quitting, and then do it. If there was one thing Harry Potter had in abundance it was will.

So that night found him lounging on Draco’s sofa, idly reading a book on archaic spells once commonly used by the Auror force. Draco sat against the other arm of the couch, paperwork in hand, toes tracing patterns on Harry’s calf. It wasn’t long before Draco’s foot found its way into the leg of Harry’s pajama bottoms and moved further up.

Harry felt Draco’s creeping foot and peered over the top of his book, a smile in his eyes. “May I help you, Mr. Malfoy? Your toes seem to have lost their way.”

Draco chuckled. “I assure you, Mr. Potter, my toes know exactly where they’re going.”

“And that would be?” Harry teased as he dropped his book to the floor and rose to his knees, dislodging Draco’s foot.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to come over here if you want me to show you.” Draco answered. “Some uncouth person has thoughtlessly taken my chosen path from me.”

“How dreadfully rude.” Harry mock scowled as he crawled the length of the sofa to straddle Draco’s lap.

“Indeed,” was Draco’s only answer before Harry lowered his head, lips meeting in a playful kiss. Their lips began their sensual dance and the kissed deepened into something with purpose. As Harry’s hands traveled up Draco’s body to wind in his hair Draco quickly interrupted him by pulling back long enough to tug Harry’s tee-shirt over his head. Thwarted for only a second, Harry immediately reached up to grasp Draco’s golden locks, and with a possessive grin pulled him back into their kiss.

Harry’s fingers tightened in Draco’s hair as their tongues slid together. Draco’s hands were busy exploring Harry’s chest, running through the trail of dark hair leading to his waistband before moving back up to tug at his nipples. Harry gasp and thrust his hips forward as jolts of pleasure shot through his body. Draco arched underneath him, pressing his hard cock against Harry’s answering heat.

Harry groaned when Draco moved his mouth away and down to nip at his jaw. The blonde’s tongue soon sought out the most sensitive spots on Harry’s neck, well mapped and known. Harry rocked into him, rubbing their stiff lengths together through thin cotton. Harry’s erection throbbed painfully, almost begging him for release. He looked down to watch their cocks twitch as they ground together, trapped in their fabric prisons. Both pajamas had twin wet spots where their precome had leaked through. Harry was overcome with a need to taste his lover.

Draco whimpered at the sudden lack of contact as Harry moved away from him. “Hush, love” Harry soothed. “Patience.”

Harry slid off the couch, pulling Draco around with him. He knelt between Draco’s legs, pulling down his pajama bottoms and pants. Draco’s prick sprang free, flushed with blood and shiny with fluid. Harry licked his lips in anticipation before bending down to ghost a breath over Draco’s sensitive skin.

“Harry,” Draco whined. “Don’t tease.”

Harry relented, taking the tip of Draco’s cock into his mouth, tongue lapping around the head and dipping beneath his foreskin to seek out the places where Draco’s taste was the strongest. 

After filling his mouth with Draco’s intoxicating flavor, Harry’s head sank lower, taking Draco in to the root. His hands crept around underneath Draco to grasp his arse. Harry began to slowly pull Draco into him, causing Draco to gently fuck his mouth. Harry swallowed around the head of Draco’s cock, causing him to moan.

“Gods, Harry. So good. So perfect. Love to fuck your mouth.” Draco gasped as Harry worked him with every trick he knew. He was lost in sensation as words of praised and devotion spilled from his lips. So caught up in feeling was he that he didn’t notice at first when Harry began to pull him forward harder and harder.

Draco noticed something was wrong when he heard Harry choke. He became aware the Harry’s hands were grasping his arse in a punishing grip, and he was pulling Draco’s hips forward brutally. Tears poured from his eyes as he fought to breathe around the invader blocking his airways. Still he pulled Draco forward, seemingly determined to swallow him whole.

“Harry!” Draco yelled as he pushed against Harry’s shoulders, struggling to free himself from Harry’s hold. “Harry, stop! Please Harry, stop!”

Draco’s voice slowly broke through Harry’s trance, and he realized what he was doing. Mortified, he released his grip on Draco, scrambling backward across the floor.

“Draco… I’m… I’m so sorry!” Harry gasped.

Draco froze in the face of Harry’s distress. He had never seen Harry lose it like this before and it took him a second to follow Harry down to the floor where he grabbed him in a tight hug. 

“Harry,” he began in a gentle voice. “What happened?”

Harry began to sob, clinging to Draco. His body trembled in Draco’s arms. For several minutes they just sat there, holding each other as Harry broke down. Eventually Harry spoke, his voice low and rough.

“I’m so sorry, Draco. I didn’t mean to… I don’t know… I just forgot.”

Draco led Harry to the bedroom where he held him until he fell asleep. Harry’s confused words the only explanation he was to receive. 

 

Draco was meeting Pansy for lunch, as he often did. This time, however, he couldn’t keep his mind on her stream of gossip about old classmates and the odd wizarding celebrity.

“Pans,” Draco broke into her newest tirade about the vulgarity of the latest fashion in robes. “Pans, I’m worried about Harry.”

It was a sign of Draco’s deep concern that he’d even think about approaching Pansy with this problem. She had never been, and never would be, Harry Potter’s biggest fan. Draco needed someone to talk to, and she was there though. And the truth was, Pansy Parkinson had a decent brain when she decided to use it.

“Really, Draco? You want me to play Mind Healer for you and Potter? How do you think that will go?” Pansy sighed.

“Please, Pans. I need to talk to someone and I don’t know what else to do.”

Pansy looked into Draco’s anguished face and the scowl dropped off her face. She rolled her eyes before signaling him to continue.

“I hardly know where to begin because it’s nothing I can put my finger on. He’s so different lately. He’s not “my Harry”, if you know what I mean. I thought he was anxious about his coming promotion, but he’s distracted nearly _all_ of the time. Then I accidentally saw a Ministry form on his desk, and he’s looking at a suspension because whatever it is following him to work too. I have no idea what’s going on with him, Pans.”

“Do you think he’s messing around on you?” Pansy asked with just a hint of hope in her voice.

“What? No! Do you?” Draco exclaimed, the worry on his face deepening. 

“Honestly? No.” Pansy answered with a sigh. “I think Saint Potter is much too Gryffindor to step out on you. It’s likely job stress, as you said. He’s worked himself into a tizzy about finally becoming Head Auror and it’s affecting his performance. He’ll get through it.”

“I don’t know,” Draco answer hesitantly. “I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something under the surface. Until recently we’ve always shared an amazing sex life, but the other night…let’s just say it took an odd turn.”

“Do tell.”

“I’m sorry, Pans. I can’t go into details, really. I’d feel like I was betraying Harry if I did. I can say that everything started out as wonderful as usual, but it took a dark turn. Harry wasn’t at all behaving like himself. I’ve never seen him like that before, and he wouldn’t talk about it afterward. I haven’t felt so helpless since the Dark Lord was living in the Manor.”

Pansy appeared to think for a while before slowly answering. “We all have our nightmares, Draco. I’d be more shocked if Potter never went to a dark place. It was bound to bleed out into real life sometime.”

“Nightmares, yes. Of course Harry has nightmares. At times I feel like I know his nightmares as well as my own. If this was a nightmare it was one he’s never shared with me. This was more like… Pans, you have to swear not to repeat this.”

“Draco, of course I promise. I might not like Potter, but you should know by now I’m going to run off to the Prophet with your private business!”

“I know, Pans.” Draco replied. “But I feel guilty even speculating about this. Pansy, he acted like some of our classmates did after the war. You know, the ones who were used as entertainment by the older Death Eaters.” 

“Didn’t you say those Muggles who raised him…”

“Not like that,” Draco broke in. “They treated him like a House Elf and all but starved him, but he swears other than his bully cousin nobody laid a hand on him. I don’t understand! I know everything about him! There’s nothing in his past to provoke that kind of reaction. I wish I knew what was going on!” Draco finished with a cry.

“Draco, sometimes relationships end. Maybe that’s what’s on his mind.” Pansy said in a quiet and kind voice.

“Not this one,” Draco growled as he looked up at her with tears in his eyes. “What would I do without him, Pansy? I…look!”

Draco fished in his pocket before thrusting his open hand in Pansy’s face. Sitting on his palm was an old fashioned skeleton key, shining gold with ornate scroll work at the top, and inset with a gleaming emerald.

“A key?” Pansy looked at him with a question in her eyes. “You don’t lock your flat the Muggle way, do you?”

“Of course not,” Draco answered. “It’s symbolic, Pans. I had it made before my trip to France.”

Draco laughed bitterly. “I have some wizarding estate brochures tucked away too. I want to ask Harry to get a place with me, but things have been so strange since I got back I haven’t found the chance. What do I do with this now, Pansy? What’s the point?”

“Oh,” Pansy cried, her tough exterior breaking down. “Don’t give up yet. You don’t know that things are over. You’ve got to talk to him, Draco. He’s been so closed-mouthed since the end of the war that I don’t think there’s anyone in the universe, you included, who really knows all the things floating around in his head. He had a piece of the Dark Lord living in him for 16 years, for Merlin’s sake! Why you haven’t insisted he visit a Mind Healer, I’ll never know. But Draco, you have to do something. I don’t give a toss if everything goes back to butterbeer and Quidditch tomorrow. Harry needs to heal, even if it’s just so I don’t have to hear you whinge about his mad spells ever again.”

Draco gave a hiccupping laugh as Pansy’s rant brought him back to earth.

“Thanks, Pans. You’re a good friend.”

“And don’t forget it,” Pansy grinned at him.

And for the first time in weeks Draco felt his heart lighten.

 

After Jonathan left, Harry drifted a bit before meeting Antonio. He was part of a foreign exchange liaison to the office of Magical Law Enforcement. He was handsome, soft spoken, and having grown up in a secluded part of Italy was unimpressed with Harry’s unofficial titles. This gentle man was as different from Jonathan as Harry could have imagined. Still, a lesson hard learned isn’t a lesson soon forgotten. Harry reserved a bit of himself at the beginning of the relationship, determined that he wasn’t going to let Antonio down. If playing a role meant keeping Antonio Harry was going to have the script memorized before he made a move.

It nearly fell apart the first time they had sex, however. From Jonathan Harry had learned to submit to the punishments his lover doled out. His vigour alarmed Antonio who preferred to play his lover’s body for hours, raising his partner to heights of pleasure before soothing him back down only to start all over again. Harry spent their first encounter frozen and terrified despite Antonio’s promises to take care of him. 

Their time together progressed and Harry learned to appreciate what Antonio had to offer. He couldn’t remember ever being taken care of so completely. Allowing himself to be cherished gave Harry a sense of peace he had never known, and as long as Antonio insisted on taking the lead Harry was happy to lie back and let his body be worshipped. 

Whenever his bedtime talks with Draco turned to painful moments in his past, and Draco became upset, Harry was quick to change the subject to those who had shown him kindness, numbering Antonio amongst them. He often spoke of his gentle nature, and the way he made Harry feel prized for being Harry, not The Man Who Vanquished Voldemort. Draco would calm, happy to know that there were a few people in the wizarding world who understood Harry was an amazing man in his own right, even if he didn’t want to share Harry with more than he absolutely had to.

Harry didn’t like to talk about how he and Antonio split, however. Draco knew the story, of course. Antonio wanted Harry to come back to Italy with him, but Harry was just starting his career and didn’t want to give it up. The rest Harry kept to himself. It hurt too much to repeat Antonio’s parting words calling Harry a selfish lover, and equating fucking him to sex with a dead fish. He didn’t share his desolation at learning that no matter what anyone said he wasn’t worth being cared for. Time and time again life showed him that he was worth no more than what he could give. It was one more lesson learned and one more plate in the armor keeping Harry’s heart safe.

***

After Antonio Harry, Harry refused to let anyone in. He dated casually, but kept them at a distance. Each dinner out, every touch, all conversations were filed away in Harry’s brain where he was busy constructing the perfect Potter. The next time he got into a relationship it was going to be for keeps, and if it took him decades before he had a façade flawless enough to do so he didn’t mind. 

 

Harry stared at the parchment on his desk until the words blurred. It didn’t matter, the important ones were burned into his brain. Mandatory psychological evaluation. He was being taken off active duty until he had completed a week-long evaluation with a Mind Healer. He could still hear Kingsley’s words ringing in his ears.

“Should have done this years ago, really. We knew you needed help after the final battle, Harry. Arthur Weasley and I talked about it before you were accepted into the program, but there was so much attention on you that we didn’t want to make it worse. We put it off, thinking that there would be a better time to schedule it. There never was though, was there? You seemed to adjust so well that I suppose I didn’t want to rock the boat. Stir up old memories, as it were. I should have known better. 

I’m sorry, Potter. I’m sorry that I didn’t insist on this back then. I’m sorry I let you go on hiding your problems. I swore when you joined my Aurors that I wasn’t going to let you carry the weight of the world like I saw Dumbledore do. “

Harry remembered Kingsley’s deep sigh and the sorrow in his voice. “I failed you, Harry. Whatever is happening is destroying you, and I won’t fail you again. See the Mind Healer. I want you as my next Head Auror, but more than that, I want you healthy.”

***

He finally broke from his reverie and Apparated to Draco’s flat. His mind was screaming at him to go home, to disappear into the Shadow Floo, but Draco expected him. If he were going to have any success in keeping this mess secret he needed to behave as expected. Draco had to suspect something was wrong, even if Harry had been putting on his best face. He couldn’t afford any more mistakes.

As he entered Draco’s flat he heard a woman’s voice drifting out of the parlour. Without conscious thought Harry immediately froze, ears straining to hear who was speaking.

“Ron and I are beside ourselves, Draco.” Hermione’s muffled voice reached Harry’s ears. A Floo call then. He crept closer.

“All of his friends have noticed how oddly he’s behaving. It’s almost like when he was seeing that dreadful Muggle. When he’s not with you we can’t reach him. He disappears for days at a time, and doesn’t return our owls.”

“Dreadful Muggle? What do you mean?” Draco interrupted.

“Harry had to have told you about him. Jonathan, I think his name was?” Hermione replied.

“He’s told me about Jonathan, but not a word about him being dreadful. Can you explain?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione began. “It’s not like he told us anything, really. It was more in the way Harry acted when they were dating. He was cowed. Depressed. Even Jonathan’s friends saw it. The few times I socialized with the two of them his friends were always pulling me aside and telling me to convince Harry to ditch him. I tried, but I didn’t have much to work with. Harry doted on him, and listened to everything that came out of his mouth like it was the meaning of life. 

It was awful when they broke up. Harry wouldn’t tell us much except Jonathan had left him. He was devastated for ages, and when he finally got over it he had changed. He was harder and angrier than I had seen him in years. If it hadn’t been for Antonio I don’t know that Harry would have ever come back to us.”

Harry backed away from the parlour, exiting the flat without making a sound. How did Hermione know so much about Jonathan? He had worked so hard to be normal, but apparently it was all for naught. He was torn between despair at his transparency and anger at Hermione for not confronting him with her suspicions. Harry hadn’t realized until that moment that he still had that kind of faith in her. Despite all that had happened he still had believed Hermione, at least, had his best interests at heart. The realization that she didn’t want to bother with a broken Harry any more than the rest of them ripped at his heart. He turned to Apparate away while the conversation inside the flat continued.

“Hermione, I have something to tell you and I’m not sure how to start. Something happened between Harry and I recently that put me in mind of the Death Eater’s abuse victims.”

“You know about Harry’s relatives…”

“No,” Draco broke in. “Not that kind of abuse. Something that could explain his behavior when he was with Jonathan.”

“Oh!” Hermione gasped. “Draco, do you think Jonathan abused Harry sexually?”

“I don’t know, and I hope I’m wrong.”

 

As soon as Harry got back to his flat he dashed off a note to Draco explaining his absence. He claimed to have received a special assignment from Robards that was to start early in the morning. He begged Draco’s forgiveness for standing him up, but assured him that he’d be buried in case notes until the second he collapsed into bed. After signing the note with words of love and promises to spend time together as soon as he could, Harry sent it off before collapsing in his favorite chair to think.

How could he have been so wrong? He thought his friends were blissfully ignorant of his true self, but it now seemed that wasn’t entirely true. He had spent most of his life perfecting the face he wore for them, and it had been ages since Ron had stormed off in a strop or Hermione had given him one of her patented, “Oh, Harry” speeches. 

His eyes drifted to his special Floo pot, hidden inside a misshapen clay bowl a four-year-old Teddy had proudly presented him as a birthday gift. His racing heart slowed as he realized the answer was there in front of him. There was one who had always looked past the labels, and who had given him the truth. One who had always helped him, not because of who Harry was, but despite it. His answer lay with the one person whose influence on Harry’s life had been most unappreciated, but also for the deepest of reasons. 

He had never reckoned on using the Shadow Floo as anything more than an escape, and a reminder. It was fantasy, right? An outlet in which he could rid himself of all the things he hated most. To use it to invoke someone for whom he had so much respect seemed a desecration of his memory, and gave the Floo a validity Harry refused to admit. And yet, his life was falling apart because he lacked the discipline to control himself. If there was one thing he needed now it was a reminder that, in the end, you could only rely on yourself. If there was one person who could teach him that lesson better he didn’t know who. Dare he?

 

_”Just as arrogant as ever, I see.”_

_The stranger’s voice was low and measured, calm with a hint of danger beneath. Harry was lucky that the man he found to partner with had been a Hogwarts student during Snape’s tenure. He would never be able to duplicate the contempt that so enraged Harry at the time, and that made him feel so small when he thought of it now. He was willing, however, to use his memories of the late Potions Master in their role play, and that would have to be enough._

_“Why did you ever think you could pull the wool over their eyes, I wonder? You’re about as subtle as a Blast-Ended Skrewt. I am finally free of dunderhead children, and yet you still come to me as if you think in death I shall be more successful in forcing knowledge into your useless head than I was in life.”_

_Harry sat on the floor, knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around himself, as the stranger paced in front of him from the other side of the Floo. He held himself with the same stiff dignity Harry remembered Severus having. His black robes billowed convincingly around his legs. For a moment Harry’s heart clenched as the eerie light of the Shadow Floo made the scene seem that much more real. A shade of a thought flickered though Harry’s consciousness, making him wish, for the briefest moment, that it was real. That he could step through the Floo and join Snape on the other side of the veil._

_Harry scrambled to his feet, backing away from the fireplace in panic._

_“I’m sorry. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have… I didn’t… I need to go.”_

 

The Mind Healer assigned him by the Ministry was a woman a few years Harry’s senior. She kept a small, private office apart from the Ministry, a fact Harry appreciated. As long as he showed up to his mandatory sessions he was being allowed the privilege and privacy of being treated off-site. He entered her office through her Floo, and after Healer Woodward had introduced herself, retreated to the far side of the room to look out of the window. The healer crossed the room to take her position in a well-worn and comfortable leather chair. After picking up her quill she began to speak.

“Are you aware of what you’re doing, Harry?”

Harry turned his upper body to look at her.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific than that, Healer.” He answered with a wry smile.

“Your body language,” she clarified. “Upon entering the room you moved to the far side and turned your body away.”

“I closed myself off.” Harry replied. “Yes, I’m aware of how to read body language. It is part of basic Auror Training. I wouldn’t be much use in an interrogation if I couldn’t spot a simple tell, would I?”

“No, I suppose not,” Healer Woodward answered with a gentle smile. “But what I really wanted to know is if you were aware you were already on the defensive. I don’t want our session to start out on an antagonistic note.”

Harry sighed and turned away from the window. He crossed the room and took a seat closer to the Healer before beginning to speak.

“I don’t reckon I did.” He started. “I didn’t give it much thought. I just seemed to gravitate to the window. I don’t suppose it would be a big surprise if I said I’m not exactly looking forward to our sessions. I like my privacy.”

“Understandable,” the Healer nodded. “You’ve lived your life in the spotlight before you knew that spotlight existed. I can imagine your guard is up with anyone new. Can I suggest something that might help with that?”

Harry regarded her warily before reluctantly nodding.

“Good. What I would like to try with you is a combination of a calming drought and a mild hypnosis spell. It’s something I often use with my patients who suffer extreme anxiety. It will relax you, and help you to talk about things that might otherwise cause you distress without forcing you to do anything you don’t want to do. This isn’t an interrogation, Harry, but a tool to get to the root of your current distress.”

Harry remained silent for several long minutes, staring at the floor and lost in thought. He eventually looked up at the Healer and regarded her with a critical eye.

“What’s said here remains confidential, right?”

“Yes, Harry,” the Healer answered. “When I became a Mind Healer I took an Unbreakable Vow to keep my patients’ confidence. The only way I can talk about anything said here is if you are an immediate danger to yourself or someone else. Even then, I can only reveal enough information to keep you safe. The details of our talks will die with me.”

“All right, then,” Harry nodded. “I’ll try.”

***

As the week went on, and under the influence of the Healer’s care, Harry’s story began to unfold. Having gathered Harry’s background from Kingsley, Healer Woodward worked slowly from the beginning. Harry found himself voicing things he had scarcely allowed himself to think before. The Healer spoke little as Harry, in his relaxed state, poured out his frustration and confusion over the way his aunt and uncle had raised him. There was a tired acceptance in his voice that couldn’t hide the sorrow for the childhood lost in that infamous cupboard.

His pain became more evident as he began to recount his joy at learning he was a wizard, and the eventual feelings of betrayal that came when he understood that Dumbledore knowingly put him in that unfortunate situation. His voice broke as he explored both his deep admiration and animosity toward his former mentor. How he found words enough to describe the way he felt about the old man’s pattern of pulling him in only to push him away he could never explain. The emotion ran so deep and had been so ingrained into his psyche Harry wasn’t aware he could express them.

Harry spoke of Severus Snape, both the respect that had grown in him for a man he had so badly misunderstood, and the betrayal he felt at the verbal abuse rained down upon him for crimes committed before he was born. He talked of Umbridge, of the wizarding press, and even of Draco and their early rivalry. 

Darkest were the times when Harry told her the horrors of being possessed by Voldemort. The concept of holding a piece of pure evil, of another’s soul, within yourself was one so foreign that Healer Woodward could offer little insight, but privately marveled at Harry’s resilience. Each day Harry talked for hours, relaying tales of early abuse and hardship. Even one of these stories would have been reason enough for Harry’s apparent depression, but Healer Woodward remained convinced the root lie elsewhere. Harry’s thoughts on the early traumas of his life showed an amazing amount of self-awareness. That didn’t mean his words held no cause for worry though. He often spoke of the pressure he felt to put on an act, to show the person in front of him the Harry Potter they expected him to be.

Late into Thursday they finally reached Harry’s realization of his sexual identity and his subsequent coming out. The story he told was similar to the one heard by Draco. When it came time to discuss his sexual experiences with Jonathan Harry faltered for the first time. His voice seemed to stick in his throat and the words wouldn’t come. As Healer Woodward waited for Harry to gather his thoughts she became aware that his breath was starting to come in gasps, rather than the even, calm respiration expected from a patient under a hypnosis spell and calming draught. Alarmed, she rushed to Harry’s side.

“Harry? Harry, can you hear me?” The Healer spoke in a calm, but firm voice.

Harry nodded, panic flooding his eyes.

“I want you to relax, Harry. Nothing can hurt you here. I said you wouldn’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, but we can’t determine where to go next until I can talk to you. Can you do that, Harry? Can you concentrate on my voice and remember this is a safe place?”

Harry’s breath began to slow, even as his body began to tremble.

“I think so, Healer. I… I just don’t know if I can’t talk about… about Jonathan.”

“Don’t worry about that, Harry. What did or did not happen between you and Jonathan isn’t my worry right now. I only care about your safety. You are my only concern.”

After an indeterminate amount of time Harry began to regain his composure. He had been surprised at how comfortable he had felt talking about his past with the Healer. This sudden attack of anxiety scared and confused him. His life with Jonathan was nothing! After all he had survived, mind intact, he was ashamed to let such a little thing upset him like that. He said as much to Healer Woodward.

“Harry, you can’t pick and choose what is going to affect you and what isn’t. If you could we would all grow up ignoring the unkind words heaped on us by others, and only soaking in the praise. Our traumas and insecurities don’t become ours by choice. They’re forced upon us by others.

Harry, you are an amazing man with a wonderfully resilient spirit. I can’t tell you how many times this week I’ve been impressed by your ability to take the worst situations and use them to your advantage. Where so many others would have crumbled you have grown and flourished against the odds. This, Harry? This isn’t your fault. And I believe, that if you’ll let me, I can help you. We can get to the heart of your pain, and together we can find resolution.”

“How would we do that?” Harry asked hesitantly.

“I would like to try a deeper hypnosis spell tomorrow. We can also combine it with a stronger calming draught, if you’d like. I propose to put you into a fugue-like state in which you’ll be able to repeat the events without accessing the emotions behind them. Once we have the cold, hard facts we can decide together how to address the feelings they invoke. What do you think?”

“I think I _need_ to do this, Healer, like it or not. I’ve worked too long and too hard to lose everything I have because of some repressed feelings about an old boyfriend. Believe me, I’ve spent more than enough time thinking about him, and I’ve learned all I needed to know from him. I just want to get back control over myself so I can go back to my life.”

Healer Woodward’s ears pricked up at Harry’s choice of words, but she chose not to address them. More than ever she believed something was there that Harry refused to acknowledge. With a little luck the next day would bring some answers, and she’d have an idea of how to proceed from there. Kingsley expected a report that weekend, and she had an idea he wasn’t going to like what she had to say. If today’s reaction was anything to go on there was something deeply buried within Harry Potter. 

 

That night Harry didn’t get much sleep. On the Healer’s suggestion he was avoiding sleep potions lest they interact with the treatment they had planned. The call of the Shadow Floo was both alluring and terrifying in his raw state, so he made plans to spend the night with Draco. He expected the familiarity to allow him to unwind and forget about the wounds about to be ripped open again. However, one look into Draco’s eyes, so filled with concern, and Harry’s anxiety skyrocketed. Midnight found him staring with unseeing eyes into the dying embers of the fire in Draco’s sitting room. That’s where his lover discovered him hours later.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” Draco asked quietly as he joined Harry on the sofa.

“Tough day tomorrow,” Harry answered without looking at Draco. “I keep telling myself to pack it in. Worrying isn’t going to help, but my mind won’t shut off.”

Harry gave off an aura of quiet strength. His body language said he was a tired Auror with weighty matters on his mind, but he was competent to handle it. It was the mask he hid behind whenever one of his team showed interest in his private life. It was meant to say “It’s all right. I’ve got this.” Draco, however, had spent more than a year sharing a bed with Harry and had never known him to lose sleep over work.

“Harry, you can’t keep bottling yourself up. It’s not healthy. If you won’t talk to me will you consider seeing a Mind Healer? You’ve changed, Harry, and it has me gutted to see you like this.”

“I am.” Harry hadn’t meant to share that with Draco, but the answer slipped out on his breath as if it had a mind of its own.

“You are what?” Draco’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“I’m seeing a mind healer.” Harry clarified before continuing. “That’s my special assignment this week. Mandatory psychological evaluation. I can’t go back on active duty until I’ve completed it.”

He laughed bitterly. “I suppose your dad was right about one thing, Malfoy. It pays to have friends in high places. Any other Auror would be the talk of the tea kettle, but since I’m the Ministry’s Golden Boy I get it hushed up by the Minister of Magic himself.”

Draco averted his eyes for a moment, trying not to show how deeply the remark about his father had hurt him. Until that moment he didn’t know Harry was still capable of such a cutting remark. After several minutes of silence he began to speak once again.

“I don’t know why you’ve been shutting me out, and I won’t pretend that I’m not hurt. I want to help you still. I love you, Harry. I’d do nearly anything you asked of me.”

“Go to bed, Draco.” Harry answered tiredly. “I can’t talk about this, and I need to be alone. Please. Just go to bed.”

Draco reluctantly got to his feet. He kissed Harry’s head before walking to the door where he paused. From the gloom behind him came a voice so small he nearly missed it.

“I’m scared,” said Harry; perhaps the first statement of complete honesty in their entire relationship.

 

“I’m glad you came today, Harry,” Healer Woodward began as he stepped through her floo the next morning. “I wasn’t sure you were going to make an appearance after what happened yesterday.”

“I wasn’t certain I was,” Harry answered as he settled into his usual chair.

“You did, however, and I believe that shows that you have a commitment to healing. Are you ready to begin?”

Harry assented before taking the offered calming draught. The Healer began to cast spells, taking Harry deeper and deeper into a hypnotic state.

“Harry? Can you hear me?”

“I can.”

“Are you ready to tell me about Jonathan?”

“No,” Harry replied in a monotone, “but I will.”

And with that Harry began to speak, relaying his tale in an even, emotionless voice. The disturbing nature of Jonathan’s abuse made more horrific by the unaffected quality of his recitation. The tale took less time to present than one might have expected, but to the Healer it seemed to stretch on endlessly. Harry described an unfortunately familiar pattern. Jonathan systematically broke down his already fragile self-esteem, taking advantage of Harry’s unfathomable capacity for love and acceptance, twisting it into a sick power game. 

When Harry finished the story of his time with Jonathan Healer Woodward asked him to continue, and Harry went on to describe Antonio, Jonathan’s nearly complete opposite. He explained how it made him feel to be cherished for the first time in his life. He told her that Antonio had nearly convinced him that it was all right to allow himself to be loved and esteemed for being just Harry, and then their relationship ended. He repeated Antonio’s closing remarks, and called them the wake-up call he needed. From that day forward he was decided that his true self would remain his and only his.

Harry’s accounts explained quite a bit about his situation. These wounds were newer, formed in his adulthood, and the way he reacted was a much more deliberate decision than his childhood traumas. The Healer was at a loss to explain why these memories were now resurfacing to interfere with the careful armour Harry had built up.

“The Shadow Floo.”

Healer Woodward flinched. She hadn’t been aware she was musing aloud, and wasn’t expecting Harry to answer.

“What about the Shadow Floo, Harry? Did something happen to you there?”

“Yes,” Harry intoned. “I found myself.”

“Please explain.”

With that Harry told her about his initial curiosity, and how it lead him to explore the Shadow Floo. How he had been ready to leave when he found the scene playing out between the two men. He told her how overwhelmed he had been to find out he wasn’t the only one hiding a worthless soul behind a normal exterior. The knowledge drew him back time and time again. He thought he had finally found a way to let out those feelings of insignificance without exposing himself. The more time he spent there, however, the more he found himself reliving the past until he was recreating the more painful moments of his life in an obsessive manner.

“Did you hide your use of the Shadow Floo from Draco right from the beginning?” Woodward asked.

“Yes,” Harry answered. “I thought about telling him at first. I thought that when I found out I wasn’t alone in my feelings it might be OK to tell him. His reaction to the Shadow Floo prevented me.”

“What was his reaction?”

“He said he thought the idea of the Shadow Floo was rather pathetic. He said he pitied the people who had fantasies they couldn’t admit to. How could I tell him I was one of those sad buggers? He would have been disgusted by me. I can’t lose him. I’ve invested too much.”

“I would like to bring you out of the hypnosis spells so we can talk about what you’ve told me today. Do you feel ready for that, Harry?”

“I don’t know. I can try.”

The Healer began lifting the spells, bringing Harry back to a fully conscious state. There were bottles of calming draught on hand, ranging from mild to strong. As Harry regained awareness his breathing sped up. Healer Woodward remained unruffled, handing him a calming draught of medium strength. This was not the time to divorce Harry of his emotions, but the time left for the evaluation was short so it was important he not panic.

“Harry,” Healer Woodward began after the calming draught had taken effect. “I want you to talk about your relationship with Draco.”

Harry sighed a breath of relief. Talking about Draco would be easy. His spiel was as well-worn as his favorite Weasley jumper. 

“What made you choose to pursue Draco Malfoy?” The Mind Healer continued.

Harry started to tell the tale of how they met again at a Ministry function after Draco had consulted with Hermione over the development of the new Muggle Studies courses. He had gotten as far as the moment when he simultaneously realized that his friends were hoping the two of them would hit it off, and how OK he was with that.

“That’s not what I meant,” Healer Woodward gently interrupted. “Someday we might get into that, but for now I want you to tell me _why_. Why Draco? Why did you finally pursue a relationship after years of casual dating? What was different about him?”

Harry turned to look out of the window. The Healer was asking the one thing he least wanted to talk about concerning his relationship with Draco. In some ways it was harder than talking about Antonio or even Jonathan. This was the secret he felt most unforgivable of all. And yet, after his other confessions it didn’t make sense to refuse this last step. He finally turned back to face her.

“Because he was easy,” Harry began. “I had years of history with him and knew his past. More importantly, I knew, or could guess at, his expectations of me. A dash of the Chosen One with a more humble, adult Harry hiding beneath. I knew Draco had changed, and I could see it was important to him that the world see those changes. He wanted to be more than the boy who let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. I reckoned he’d be over the moon to discover we had that in common; that I was fighting to be more than the boy who vanquished Voldemort. I could give him what he wanted, and it was close enough to who my friends saw me as that I could finally have a whole life. No more keeping people in their slots because, for the first time, everyone wanted the same from me.”

“What do you want, Harry?”

“Does it matter? In the end we all conform to expectations. I’m more realistic about it than most. I enjoy being able to relax my guard a bit so it’s not like I don’t get anything out of it. Draco’s smart, funny, a thoughtful boyfriend, great in bed, and has made his name one to be admired. He treats me better than anyone ever has, and his demands are simple. I like that. I like being with him, and now I might have bunged it all up because I can control myself with the bloody Shadow Floo!”

By the time Harry finished his speech he was shouting. When he realized his voice was raised he cut himself off abruptly and sank back into his chair, abashed.

“What about love?” Healer Woodward enquired, ignoring Harry’s outburst. “Do you love Draco? Does he love you?”

“He says he does,” Harry answered. “Not often, but he has said it. Do I love him? I don’t know. I’m not sure I know what love is. I once thought I did, but bugger if I still do.”

“You know, I rather think you do,” Healer Woodward began. “You are afraid to lose him, and that says to me your feelings are deeper and more complex than you realize. You’ve hidden yourself for most of your life, Harry. It’s normal to have doubts, especially with what you’ve been through. I think you do love Draco or losing him wouldn’t be so frightening.”

“I wish I could believe it’s love, Healer. I can’t help but think that losing him would mean so much wasted work.”

“The work is insignificant overall, Harry. It’s easier to build a new structure than repair a badly damaged one. The work of keeping Draco will likely be more than the effort of creating a new relationship.”

Harry sat for a minute, pondering the Healer’s words. She soon broke into his musings, however.

“Do you think you can continue? I know this is a lot to cover in one day, but I must submit my report by Monday and I still have questions.”

“What? Yes, OK.” Harry came out of his reverie. “What did you want to ask?”

“I wanted to discuss your relationship with Jonathan. Why do you think he had such a profound effect on you?”

“What do you mean? The stuff he did to me was pretty fucked up. Even someone like me knows that,” Harry answered readily.

“Yes, but other people in your life used you or treated you shabbily. Your relatives, for example, attempted to raise you to feel worthless. You spent ten years of your life under their care with little outside influence, and yet you dismiss their verbal abuse easily. Why did Jonathan get in where they couldn’t? What made him more credible in your mind?”

Harry stared thoughtfully into space, weighing his answer. He truthfully hadn’t considered this before. What did make Jonathan’s words cut more deeply than others like the Dursleys’?”

“I think it may have been my age,” Harry began slowly. “When the Dursleys told me I was a useless freak I was just as kid, but even as a kid I knew they weren’t the kind of people I wanted to be like. Blimey! They weren’t even the kind of people _they_ wanted to be. They were always grasping. They looked at others with such greed in their eyes. It was always about how they could use people, and never about sharing. I guess even back then I knew I didn’t want to use anyone. Besides, I had fantasies of my parents to keep me grounded. I could always escape into daydreams about a mum and dad who loved me and wanted me around.

I suppose it was much of the same with the Prophet and Dumbledore. People might tell me I was worthless or mad, or they might try to use me, but I had the prophecy to worry about. It didn’t leave me much time to fret about anything else. Besides, I didn’t know if I’d survive. It’s hard to be arsed to care about a lying reporter or another adult failing you when you’re just a kid and facing death.

Jonathan though? That was supposed to be different. He was supposed to be someone who didn’t want to use me or think of me as a freak. He was supposed to be this great guy on whom I could rely. Really open up, yeah?

I was an adult by then. I was training to be an Auror. I should have been able to choose better, and I thought I had. I didn’t fool him for a minute though. He took one look at me and knew that I was too fucked up to be normal so he took what he wanted before dropping me. Maybe I was just a kid when all that other stuff happened, but what excuse did I have for choosing Jonathan? Everyone tells me that what I went through as a kid wasn’t my fault, but I let Jonathan treat me like shit. OK, I was stupid to let him, but at least I _learned_ something.”

Harry paused, clearly agitated. He looked at Healer Woodward with wide eyes, pupils dilated in excitement.

“Do you think that’s it? If I had let the Dursleys get to me more I would have learned sooner? I wouldn’t have needed Jonathan, and I would have known to keep my guard up with Antonio.”

“No, Harry.” Healer Woodward shook her head sadly. “I don’t think that’s the lesson you’re meant to take from this. I think your early life primed you for Jonathan. I don’t think you could have done any better with him than you did, especially under the circumstances. He’s a predator, and you were emotionally injured when you met him. Listening to the Dursleys wouldn’t have prevented you from falling for Jonathan, but would have opened the door to more like him, and at an earlier age. 

I also don’t believe Antonio meant what he said to you when you parted. In my opinion, it sounds as if he genuinely cared for you. He was hurt you wouldn’t give up your career to be with him so he took a cheap shot. I honestly believe he did cherish you and your time together. It was hurt feelings that caused him to lash out, and not a flaw in you.”

“Do you mean that?” Harry asked, eyes wary.

“I do,” Healer Woodward replied.

“Harry,” she continued, sitting aside her quill and parchment. “I think we’ve made a good beginning, but our time for the evaluation is over. I would like to keep working with you if you’re open to it.”

“I’m not sure,” Harry hesitated.

“You needn’t decide now. Give it some thought after you’ve had time to reflect on what we’ve discussed. I would like to make a request of you before you go, however. Consider it a little homework until we meet again, and I hope we do.

You said that you had no desire to be like the Dursleys and use people. Have you considered that you may be using Draco?”

Harry stared at her, mouth open and unable to speak.

“I’m not accusing you, of course. Only you can answer the question. I would like you to think about it though. 

And, Harry? Healer’s advice. Dump out the powder to the Shadow Floo. We can talk later about your visits there, but from what you’ve said, it hasn’t been a healthy experience for you. I want you to remove the temptation, at least until we’re able to work through what it has meant to you, and how it has affected your life. Can you do that?”

Harry nodded numbly. It had been a long day, and his head was swimming with new ideas. Yes, he would dump the Shadow Floo powder, and spend the weekend thinking about what she said. 

 

It was late when Harry finally reached his flat. His sessions with Mind Healer Woodward had typically lasted a full eight hours or more each day, but this last session had been especially long and tiring. He arrived home after dark, a bottle of Dreamless Sleep in hand. He knew he should contact Draco and let him know he was all right, but exhaustion won out. Harry downed the potion as he went through his bedroom door, falling into bed fully dressed on top of the duvet.

He woke the next morning to find himself wrapped in a pair of warm, strong arms. He could feel Draco’s skin pressed against his back, and realized that Draco must have undressed him while he slept. For a moment Harry pressed back into the comfort of his boyfriend’s embrace before Healer Woodward’s words echoed in his head. Was it possible that he had been using Draco all along? Harry hadn’t thought of it like that, but rather considered their relationship as an exchange. He did his best to fill Draco’s needs and be who he wanted him to be. In return he had the security of a relationship in which he could easily fill what was expected of him. The mask he had to wear was less burdensome than any he had ever put on before. And yet, Draco didn’t know that was what this was. They had never discussed their expectations honestly because of Harry’s fears and insecurities. What if Draco expected more? What if what he wanted wasn’t just an exchange of favors? Harry tried hard not to give into the temptation to consider this more proof that he was destined to end every relationship a disappointment to his partner.

As Draco began to stir Harry felt himself stiffen. How could he look him in the face after what he had learned? He just couldn’t. Harry had to face facts. He either needed to find a way to put his mask back on and spend the weekend pretending everything was OK for Draco’s sake or he had to find a way to tell him that he needed space. Harry slipped out of bed, and padded out to the kitchen to start the kettle. His stomach was in knots and he knew he wouldn’t be able to drink a drop of the tea now brewing, but he needed something to do _something_. He was going to have to do the one thing he had spent years avoiding. Harry was going to have to put his needs ahead of being the perfect boyfriend. This conversation would take place with his mask down, and it would hurt Draco’s feelings. Harry would give almost anything to be able to keep pretending, but he knew there was no way he’d make it through the weekend with his shields in place. He needed to be alone.

***

Not long after the kettle began its whistle Draco padded his way into the kitchen. The concern on his face tore at Harry’s heart. He could see how desperately Draco wanted answers; wanted to know that Harry would be OK. What Harry was about to tell him would rip open a wound that Harry wasn’t sure he could mend. If anything, he suspected things would get a lot worse before he could even think about making it better with Draco.

“I’m sorry I didn’t contact you last night,” Harry began. “It was a long day, and my Mind Healer recommended I take some Dreamless Sleep so I could shut off my mind and get some sleep. I really should have owled before I went to sleep, and for that I’m sorry.”

“Harry, it’s all right,” Draco answered.

“No, it’s really not.” Harry replied. “I was thoughtless, and my behavior is going to make what I have to ask you even harder.”

“What is it, love? You know I’d do almost anything for you. I want to help.”

“I know you do,” Harry said. “That’s what makes this so hard because I have to ask you not to help. I have some things I need to think long and hard about, and I need to be alone to do so. I wish I didn’t have to ask this, but I need to spend the weekend on my own. Draco, I need to ask you to leave and not contact me for the next few days.”

Draco didn’t say anything for what seemed like an eternity. Harry could see that he was fighting back tears, and he wanted nothing more than to tell him that is was OK; that he didn’t have to go away; that Harry was fine and would be the boyfriend Draco deserved. He held his tongue, however, waiting for Draco’s reply. Maybe Healer Woodward had been right. Perhaps Harry did love Draco, but if Harry didn’t stand firm on this he would never really know. If he didn’t step back and think he would fall back into old patterns, and his relationship with Draco would be doomed to fail sooner or later.

“This would be a lot easier if you’d give me some idea of what’s going on,” Draco said after several long minutes.

“I know,” Harry sighed. “I wish I could explain it all to you, but I don’t understand it all myself yet. I have some soul searching to do before I’ll feel ready to talk about it. Please, can you understand? I don’t want to hurt you or shut you out, but I’m so lost right now. I need some time to just be so I can get my bearings.”

“And you can’t do that with me here?” Draco’s voice held a hint of resentment, and Harry winced to hear it. He hung his head before answering Draco in a whisper.

“No.”

Harry didn’t look up as he heard Draco walk out of the kitchen and back to the bedroom. Shortly after there was the crack of apparition, and with that Draco was gone.

***

Harry spent the weekend thinking over the Healer’s words. There was a hole in his heart where Draco should have been, and he was amazed to find out how much he missed him. The more he pondered the questions the more he began to believe that he did love Draco. He also came to the inevitable conclusion that he had been using Draco, at least at first. What he couldn’t figure out was how to fix it. Healer Woodward would want him to be honest with Draco, no matter how hard it was or how much it hurt. He was at a loss to see how he could possibly do so without losing the man he had just learned he loved.

 

Monday morning came at last, and Harry didn’t know if he should be grateful his long weekend of self-reflection was done or dreading the results of his evaluation. It was with a heavy heart he Flooed into the Ministry. The walk to his office seemed to go on for miles, but when he finally arrived at his desk he found he couldn’t sit still. Restlessly he paced his office, waiting for word of his fate. It was mid-morning before he received his answer in the form of an interoffice memo. Medical leave. The official reason given was a flare-up of an old curse, improperly removed. 

“We’re going to get you help, Harry. Your health is the most important thing, Harry.”

Harry’s thoughts mocked him and he stomped his way back to the atrium and the Floos. Kingsley had been so _concerned_ when he spoke to Harry last, but he couldn’t be arsed to speak to him in person about his suspension. Of course not. The Minister couldn’t be connected to an unstable Harry Potter, hence the lie concocted for official reasons. The Chosen One couldn’t be fucked up in the head, as Harry well knew. As much as he wanted to believe Healer Woodward’s assertions that he wasn’t hopelessly flawed, it was hard when people showed him time and time again that he was.

“Harry! Harry, wait!”

Harry heard Minister Shacklebolt’s calls as he reached one of the many fireplaces lining the hall. In his hurt he didn’t pause, but grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and disappeared in a flare of green flame.

***

Seconds later Harry spilled out of his own fireplace, still running on adrenaline. How could he have been so stupid? He trusted Kingsley just as he trusted Healer Woodward, and for what? His career was in shambles, he had shoved Draco away, and if Ron and Hermione were in the dark he would eat Neville’s grandmother’s hat. He had opened himself up for the first time since Jonathan and, once again, his world was crumbling before his eyes. Then he spotted the clay pot on the mantel. He had dumped the Shadow Floo powder as promised, but all it took was a pinch.

 

_”Well, well, if it isn’t Potty Potter! What are you doing so far out of Gryffindor territory? Come to the dungeons to spy on the snakes, have you?”_

_“As if I’d tell you, Malfoy!” Harry spit back in defiance._

_“We’ll see about that, won’t we? Expelliarmus!” The faux Draco cried._

_Caught up in his fantasy Harry reacted as he would to a real disarming, his arm flying up to snatch after a non-existent wand._

_“Give it back, Malfoy!” Harry yelled._

_“And why would I want to do that? Hmm, Potter? Incarcerous!”_

_Harry froze as if bound by real ropes. He glared through the purple-green haze at the pretend Malfoy. He couldn’t see details, but in his mind’s eye Draco was sneering at him with the hateful smirk he saw all too often during school._

_“Now what are you going to do, Potter? Your Blood Traitor and Mudblood friends aren’t here to help you. I’m in control, and I think I’d like to see you on your knees in front of me.”_

_The pretender flicked his wand as if performing a non-verbal spell, and Harry dropped to his knees in front of the hearth. He watched as the man took out his prick and began to stroke it._

_“Yes…” the shade of Draco hissed. “I think I want you to suck me, Potter. Open your sanctimonious Gryffindor mouth and put it to good use for once. Suck it good and I might even let you have your wand back.”_

_Harry opened his mouth, moaning as he imagined the Malfoy of his youth fucking him, using him, humiliating him as he kneeled helplessly in front of him._

“Harry?” 

Harry had been so lost in his fantasy that he didn’t hear the door opening. He whipped his head around to see Draco standing in the doorway. For how long he didn’t know, but he could see the damage had been done. Quickly extinguishing the fire with a wave of his wand, Harry scrambled to his feet.

“Is this what you couldn’t talk about?” Draco demanded. “You’ve been ignoring me, worrying me half to death, and I rush over here to find you on your knees for someone pretending to be me? Why, Harry? What’s wrong with me that you’d rather do _that_ than be with me?”

“Wrong with you?” Harry repeated incredulously. “There’s nothing wrong with _you_ , Draco! It’s me. It’s who I am. I’m fucked up. You don’t know how fucked up I am. I never meant to be like this, I swear. I only wanted to be normal, but I can’t. I try and I try, but I don’t know how. I fuck it up. I always fuck it up.”

“I don’t understand,” Draco answered. “What happened to the Harry I knew? We were so happy, Harry. Why would you throw that away for a fake version of me?”

“No! I didn’t! I don’t ask them to be you. Not since...”

“But you have done something like this before, right? There have been others?” Draco’s voice grew cold and hard. Once again it seemed to Harry that he had picked the wrong thing to say.

“Yes,” he admitted tiredly. “There have been others. I never meant there to be, but I found something there. I was able to be myself, and for a while it was wonderful. I’m so sorry.”

“Able to be yourself? And you weren’t able to be yourself with me?” Draco’s face was an unreadable mask. For the first time since the beginning of their relationship Harry had absolutely no idea how to read him, and he found it terrifying.

“I don’t know, to be honest. I feel like I don’t know anything anymore. I don’t know who I am, Draco. I thought I knew, but then I found The Shadow Floo and others who understood what it was to be worthless. I don’t know now! What if that’s just another mask? And I can’t stop! I’m supposed to be strong and determined, but I can’t stop! How can I fix it if I don’t even know who I am?”

Tears streamed down Harry’s cheeks, and Draco’s heart broke to see it. He couldn’t forget what he saw though. Harry’s betrayal stung, and Draco clung to that.

“How can you say you don’t know who you are, Harry? I’ve never met anyone more sure of themselves!”

“Masks, Draco. My whole life has been about wearing a mask. I’ve spent my life being told who I am, and I just don’t know what to believe any more. Everybody wants something from me. Everyone demands I wear a different mask. All I ever wanted was to be Harry, and I don’t know if that’s ever going to happen for me.”

“I don’t want anything thing from you,” Draco offered in a small voice, his resolve cracking.

“Ha! You want just as much as anyone, the only difference is figuring out what you wanted was easier than most.”

Draco reeled back as if slapped. 

“Maybe I did,” he shot back, eyes narrowing. “Maybe I did want something from you, but I wanted to give you even more. What’s so wrong about wanting? Everyone wants something, like you said, but they don’t all want something from _you_ , you know. You’re _not_ that special. Everybody has something that they want someone else for. I wanted you to love. Tell me, how does that make me the bad guy? How does that justify you lying to me? You’ve been pushing me away for _that_?”

Harry felt himself folding under Draco’s assault. His anger washed over Harry, leaving him breathless and shaking. It was happening again, Harry thought in a panic. He had let his mask fall away and what he offered wasn’t good enough. All feeling bled out of him, leaving him tired and numb. He looked at Draco whose face was alive with warring emotions and conceded defeat. Healer Woodward had warned him that fixing his relationship with Draco would be more work than building a new one. He only wished he had learned the truth of that before realizing he was in love. It would all be so much easier if he could still believe he didn’t feel for the man in front of him.

“Please leave.”

The monotone of Harry’s voice seemed to catch Draco off guard. The confusion took over his features as he tried to make sense of the turn in the conversation.

“What did you say?” Draco demanded.

“You heard me,” Harry answered. “I asked you to leave. I need to contact my Healer before I make this worse. I’ve already hurt myself enough because I didn’t stop and think before reacting. I know you want answers, but I don’t have them to give you. So please, Draco. I need you to leave.”

The anger seemed to drain from Draco’s features, replaced by raw hurt. Tears filled his eyes as he looked beseechingly at Harry.

“Harry, don’t,” he implored, voice cracking. “We can talk about this. You can help me understand.”

“Perhaps, but not now. Now I need space, and to speak to my Mind Healer. I can’t take care of you just yet. Really, Draco, please go.” Harry turned his back to avoid the look in his lover’s eyes. He wished he could close his ears to the small sob he heard just before the crack of apparition. Even before the sound of Draco’s departure faded away Harry heard the ring of metal hitting the floor. He turned to the sound, finding in Draco’s place an ornate, golden key.

**Author's Note:**

> Please return to [LIVEJOURNAL ](http://hd-hurtfest.livejournal.com/)to leave a comment there. Feel free to leave a comment here, too. :)


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